| Let’s go fishing in the morning,
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| Just like we’ve always gone.
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| You can come inside and wake me up,
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| We’ll pack and leave by dawn.
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| We will pack and leave by dawn.
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| And you’ll say «I hear something,»
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| and I’ll say «Never you mind,
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| It’s just our two poles knocking in the backseat
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| and your truck is running fine, today.
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| And everything is fine.»
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| And your truck will climb up slowly,
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| And we’ll see how far we’ve gone.
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| And the hills will stretch before us,
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| They are rolling on and on.
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| The are rolling on and on.
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| And the fish will watch our boat
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| with envy and with fear.
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| Because we will live forever,
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| and our days are slow and dear.
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| And our days slow and dear.
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| We’ll go fishing in the morning,
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| even though we’ve never gone.
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| With two fishing poles in the backseat,
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| We’ll go rolling on and on.
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| We’l go rolling on and on. |